-Ember-
I put my hand on his face, tracing my thumbs over his lips, wondering again what it would be like to kiss him. The temptation is almost unbearable, but I respect the boundary he's set without understanding why.
He dips down and sucks on my breast, sending a new heat straight to my core. I arch my back off the bed, moaning, then slide my hands to his ass and pull him closer, desperate for more contact.
"Don't make me wait any longer," I blurt out, surprising myself with my boldness. "I need you inside me. Now."
I'm not sure who this woman is tonight, but the ability to give my trust to a stranger and let him freely do whatever he chooses is the opposite of my usual self. I have never begged a man before—never wanted to. I felt a little awkward before starting this, but my mystery man rushes nothing, making me feel comfortable in ways I didn't expect. He seems focused only on attending to my every need and desire, as if my pleasure is his sole mission.
He grabs both my shins and pushes my ankles toward my lower body, opening me up to him completely. He dips his finger into my pussy, gliding in and out a few times as his hot breath hits my knee, sending a trail of tingles down my thighs.
"So fucking wet for me," he growls appreciatively, his voice rough with desire. "I could play with this perfect pussy all night."
He removes his finger and lurches over my frame, his body radiating heat like a furnace.
"I want to make this good for you," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me if anything hurts. I want to hear everything—every gasp, every moan. Don't hold back."
Every sensation I could have imagined erupts in me the moment his cock pushes into my body, sliding against my walls in a heavenly concoction of pleasure. He pushes in inch by inch slowly, and I can feel him stretching my walls out. The pain both hurts and is pleasurable—a contradiction that makes me gasp.
"Holy fuck, you are tight," he groans, his voice strained. "So fucking tight it's driving me insane."
I freeze, suddenly scared he will figure out I'm a virgin and stop everything. My heart pounds in my chest as he comes up on my hymen and stops.
"How long has it been since your last...you know?" he asks, concern evident in his tone.
"Too long," I reply, not wanting to lie to him but not wanting to confess the truth either. The half-truth feels safer.
"You're so tight this might hurt you, little wolf," he warns, his body trembling slightly above mine as if he's holding himself back. "I don't want to hurt you."
"That's okay," I breathe, needing more of him inside me. "Please, I need all of you. I can take it. I want to take it."
He pushes past my hymen with one careful thrust. The pain searing through me is short-lived as he starts pumping in and out, allowing me to take more of his length with every thrust. His consideration is evident even in this—he's giving me time to adjust, to accept him.
"Yes! Oh fuck!" I breathe as heat consumes my body. The initial discomfort gives way to waves of pleasure I never knew existed. "More, please, more."
His hand takes both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the headboard. His teeth lightly graze my neck, centimeters from my marking spot.
"You like that?" he whispers hotly against my ear. "You like being held down while I fuck you?"
"God, yes," I gasp, shocked by how much I do like it.
My flesh singes under him as his muscles ripple over me. I don't need to see his body to know he is sculpted to perfection—I can feel every hard plane, every defined muscle working as he moves inside me.
"I want to see you," I blurt out in a whisper, suddenly desperate to know the face of the man who's making me feel this way.
He freezes but reminds me gently, "No, you don't. That isn't what you wanted." He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, the touch unexpectedly tender. "This is better. Trust me."
"But—"
"I won't go back on my word, little wolf," he says firmly but kindly. "Just relax and feel. Let go for me. Let me make you come again and again until you can't remember your own name."
"Okay," I nod, surrendering to his wisdom. Maybe he's right—maybe knowing would ruin the magic of this night.
I lose myself again to everything—his intoxicating scent of summer rain, cedar, and something else I can't place; the feel of his hardened body pounding into me; and his lips trailing on my neck, marking me in ways that won't last but feel permanent somehow.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice a rough caress. "Take all of me. You were made to take my cock."
"Oh my...oh fuck...ffffff..." I scream out as I orgasm, clenching around his cock. The intensity is unlike anything I've ever experienced, even with his fingers and mouth earlier.
Our skin erupts in sweat. The sound of our bodies slapping together and the sweet smell of sex is potent and, like everything else tonight, explodes into my senses. It's primal and raw, yet somehow there's an undercurrent of something else—something that feels dangerously close to connection.
"You feel so fucking perfect," he growls against my neck. "Like you were made for me. Like this pussy was designed to grip my cock exactly like this."
He tightens his grip on my wrists, thrusting harder, and my body spasms around him, unable to stop the cascade of pleasure washing over me.
"Tell me how it feels," he demands, his voice commanding yet somehow tender. "I want to hear you say it."
"Amazing," I gasp out. "Like nothing I've ever—oh god—ever felt before."
"Little wolf," he growls low, but I can make out the words, the possessiveness in his tone sending another wave of heat through me. "Mine. Tonight you're all mine."
When he unleashes the full power of his body on me, pushing me into another state of bliss, I think I might blackout as white stars erupt behind my eyelids. My entire body convulses, caught in the grip of the most powerful orgasm yet.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Let go completely. Give me everything."
And I do. I surrender everything to him—my body, my pleasure, my trust. In this moment, I am entirely his, and the freedom in that submission is intoxicating.
"I'm close," he warns, his rhythm becoming more erratic. "Fuck, you feel incredible. So perfect, so tight, so wet for me."
His words push me over the edge once more, and I cry out his title since I don't know his name. "Oh, mystery man! Don't stop!"
As my walls clench around him again, he lets out a guttural groan that sounds almost like a howl, and I feel him pulsing inside me as he finds his own release.
In the aftermath, as we both struggle to catch our breath, I wonder if I've made a terrible mistake. Not in sleeping with him—that feels like the most right thing I've ever done—but in agreeing never to know who he is.